


Being

by Cyndi



Series: Autism isn't a tragedy! [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Acceptance, Autism, Autism Acceptance, Autism Spectrum, Autistic, Cute, Friendship, Fun, Gen, Groot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Neurodiversity, Past Abuse, Rocket and Groot, actuallyautistic, autistic Groot, autistic headcanon, introspective, nonverbal autistic!Groot, nonverbal-autistic!Groot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyndi/pseuds/Cyndi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...different is not less.</p><p>What most species call autism is normal neurology for Flora Colossi. Therefore, Groot does not see himself as disabled and thinks the way everyone else experiences the world is weird!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being

**Author's Note:**

> Back away now if you don't like the idea of nonverbal-autistic!Groot. As an autistic person with a lot of sensory issues myself, albeit I'm verbal most of the time, I wanted to get deep inside Groot's head. I really had fun describing how he thinks and processes the world!
> 
> This is in no way speaking for everybody on the autism spectrum, but it is representation for my neurodivergence and I hope it gives some insight from the 'inside'. My main goals with this are to get people thinking, to help combat stigma and to create an atmosphere of acceptance.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR AUTISTIC READERS: This fic contains descriptions of self-injurious behavior(SIB) and a flashback of treatment resembling abusive Applied Behavioral Analysis(ABA) therapy.

**Being**

.o

 _"Oh, no, did I get too close?_  
_Oh, did I almost see_  
_what's really on the inside?_  
_All your insecurities,_  
_all the dirty laundry,_  
_never made me blink one time..."_

\--Katy Perry, "Unconditionally"

.o

Groot shifted uncomfortably at the notion being presented to him.

"C'mon, Groot, it'll be fun!" said Quill. His voice carried an air of excitement, like a teenager eager for something new. But he hadn't shaved that day. Prickly fuzz dotted his chin and upper lip. He looked different than usual.

Grunting, Groot grew a vine on his wrist and immediately chewed it off. The act had the wanted effect-- it soothed his desire to bite something and got Quill to stop staring at him. He peered ahead at the  _Milano's_  cockpit window, yet kept the Terran locked in his peripheral vision.

It probably did not help that his means of recognizing individuals seemed noticeably slower than others. Rocket knew people by glancing at them. Flora Colossi didn't process that way, and Groot was no exception. Every time somebody new entered his presence, he saw each of their individual features first and assembled the images to  _see a person_. He did it often, until he memorized their patterns. And if they changed their appearance-- a new scar, a tattoo, different hairstyles, spectacles, headwear, facial hair and so forth-- he had to start the mapping process all over again.

At last, he glanced at Quill and shook his head no. Then he watched Gamora's green arms rise as she bunched her red-tinted hair into a loose ponytail.

"There will be slot machines," she added, "and they are far kinder than the slot machines you played on Knowhere."

"Hah! Slot machines?" Drax regarded Gamora with a tilt of his head, "F'saki Roulette is far more entertaining."

"You're fortunate. It's supposed to be a gambler's favorite here."

"Screw you losers. I'm a card guy myself," said Rocket. He eyed Groot before going on, "What about you, Quill?"

"Blackjack and beer, baby," Quill replied. He got the 'okay' to enter the atmosphere and the  _Milano's_  nose dipped down.

Skyscrapers and twinkling lights dotted the night side of the planet like artificial stars. The city line abruptly gave way to wilderness. A vast island-speckled ocean covered the entire day side, which currently faced away.

Groot cared little about city chaos. Not today, when he had trouble determining the boundaries of his own body compared to the chair he sat in. He didn't want to spare the energy trying to distinguish the words his friends spoke within the cacophony, he lacked the desire to guess the meaning of their facial expressions amidst distracting flashing lights and he certainly wasn't up for sniffing out intentions with conflicting scents emanating from all directions.

The city itself would be a minefield of painful stimuli. Understanding his environment happened slowly in increments instead of simultaneously. Other people processed their sight instantly, he noticed, because they were able to unconsciously filter out unimportant input.

But Groot processed everything consciously. His eyes took millions of pictures at a time while his brain assembled each one into understandable movement, shape, size, color and depth. Motion was always perceived first, which allowed for quick reactions in battle and led to a little chaos everywhere else. Fixing his eyes on one thing only usually gave his mind the necessary time to catch up with everybody else's.

A shudder ran through the  _Milano's_  hull. Its engines hummed louder. Minor turbulence to everyone else felt like needles in Groot's back. His hands tightened on the arms of the seat.

The others kept talking around him. He couldn't make out their words. His ears functioned like his eyes-- taking in every nuance of sound at once. 'Tuning out' distractions wasn't an option for him. Listening to his friends talk with the engines humming at the same volume as their voices was comparable to hearing a flock of birds squabble. Once in awhile, the occasional word reached him.

The engines dialed back. Groot stared down at his lap, not daring to self-soothe beyond nibbling an errant leaf off his forearm. Controlling his natural reactions to the unpleasantness  _really_  got tiring after awhile. When Groot was tired, he acted out in ways that weren't acceptable around anybody who wasn't Rocket.

A sensory binge would solve many of his current problems. Groot knew the uninhabited part of the planet held exactly what he needed to restore his equilibrium. He'd gone too long without and he wasn't letting anyone get in his way. Not even Rocket.

"...c'mon, Groot, don't be a party pooper," Quill was saying.

But Rocket  _got it_  where the others didn't. The raccoon's bushy tail flicked in annoyance.

"Knock it off, Quill. What's wrong with you? Taking Groot places he doesn't want to go when he's cranky like this is a bad idea. Just drop him off where he wants. He can come find us if he gets lonely. Right, Groot?"

Groot briefly focused his gaze between Rocket's eyes to avoid direct eye-contact and flashed his brightest smile.

Thought didn't translate easily into speech. Sometimes, Groot forgot everybody besides Rocket had trouble discerning his nonverbal communication. Mostly, he 'spoke' through scent. Many humanoids didn't have enough olfactory receptors to notice something so subtle.

He attempted spoken words often, but his stiff, nearly immobile larynx did not lend itself naturally to speaking. As for coordinating his breath, tongue and mouth all at once? Forget it. Besides, his thoughts often whirled too quickly through the universe of his mind. Compacting such complex threads into the few words he could successfully articulate required immense energy and focus. His gratitude emerged not in what he said, but how he said it.

"I am  _Groot_ ," he grunted, releasing a puff of sweetness into the air to make his anticipation known, " _I_  am Groot?"

Rocket smirked up at him, "Yeah, yeah. Me? I'm gonna drink these assholes under the table."

Drax voiced his indignation, though Groot ignored the posturing. Gamora kept her focus straight ahead. Like Groot, she probably wanted no part of the argument. Quill did absolutely nothing to quell the tension. Groot stared down at his hands, which lay folded in his lap, and waited.

.o

Hours later, Groot smelled his impending freedom.

"You sure you don't want to hang with us?" Quill tried one more time.

Groot's eyes narrowed. " _I_  am  **GR-O-O-O-T!** " He used way more volume than necessary and couldn't make himself care. The mental walls he built against his environment were reaching the crumbling point. They had to come down in order to be rebuilt.

Quill's hands flew up in a defensive posture, "Whoa, whoa, okay, easy!"

For a moment, less than that, Groot glanced at Quill's right ear. The look alone offered an apology. Then he hopped out of the airlock and waved goodbye as the  _Milano_  lifted off. Its engines left a pretty contrail when it zoomed east towards the loud city ten miles away.

Brilliant colors heralded twilight. Three full moons hung like giant grayish-yellow baubles above the distant city skyscrapers. A dim cup-shaped reflection nebula filled a quarter of the southern sky while the galactic plane's dusty whiteness smudged its haze across the northern horizon. Overhead, stars began to peek out like diamonds affixed on velvet. To the west, a vast gray-green meadow stretched as far as Groot's dark eyes could see.

Quiet wind broke the silence. Groot bent to swish his palms back and forth over the soft thigh-high grass. All the tension of repressing his reaction to his friends' voices, engine noises and blinking navigational instruments slowly melted away. No more keeping things out...now he could be  _his version of normal_  and let it all in.

Growling laughter burst from his throat. Sweet energy consumed every fiber of his being. Too much to contain, and now he didn't have to. He jumped up and down, hands flapping in the air as the sudden emotional burst drove him into motion. His laughter became a raspy shout. Anyone who wasn't Rocket shook their heads when he did this-- they mistook it for problem behavior or pitied him for laughing, yelling and jumping without provocation. If only they knew.

Emotions were always intense to him. Containing extreme ones to small, socially acceptable means of expression required immense concentration.

Out here, there were no limits.

This felt  _good_.

Twilight's colors slowly faded. Starry blue-black skies covered the world like a secure blanket. Even still, it wasn't entirely dark-- the three moons cast a silver glow across the landscape.

Groot knelt, smelling the musky grass and nibbling on some chewy, sour blades. His slowly blinking eyes studied the pale spots where the blades met the dirt. Between the individual grass blades were tall, spongy stalks with drooping green stamens and blue pistils. Pollen created the musky scent hanging in the air. This grass was strong, productive and healthy. Groot straightened and began walking forward, letting the soil's velvety coolness seep into his feet. The dirt carried far more nutrients than the rations available onboard the  _Milano_. It grew perpetually wetter until he paused at the edge of a round pond. All around it, chutes destined to be huge trees poked upward.

No trees dotted the landscape at all. Observing this presented a simple conclusion: This planet's delicate ecosystem was still in its infancy. Groot decided not to drink from the pond. The baby trees needed it more. He skirted the pond and followed the stream feeding it until he came upon a gently flowing river. Soft white light caught his attention. His eyes snapped aside towards a shallow pocket of still water and gleamed with reflections of bioluminescent lotus blossoms floating on bright green lily pads. Surrounding them, equally bioluminescent moths flitted about. Their white glow blended perfectly with the flowers. Of course, they used their wings for camouflage!

A delighted rumble escaped Groot's throat. He settled in a prone position on the riverbank and contentedly watched the insects flutter. A brave one landed right atop his finger when he extended his hand. The beautiful bioluminescence resided in the tiny scales covering its triangular wings.

Groot noticed how the veins in the moth's wings almost perfectly matched the vein patterns on the lotus flowers. They would look much the same under a microscope, no doubt.

Nature was rife with fractals. Groot liked spotting visual mathematics in action-- those amazing patterns that repeated themselves almost endlessly. Everything from brain cells all the way to galaxies arranged in super clusters making up the cosmic web. He could spend hours mentally zooming in and out of them. Everyone else thought he was staring blankly at things, yet he saw the intricate complexities of the universe in a leaf, a cloud, a fern, a piece of wood grain or a moth's forewing. Just one more reason he hated plain ship interiors. The walls held nothing to exercise his mind and distract him from the sensory bombardment he experienced when traveling with other people. His own hands could only provide entertainment for so long.

Sometimes, it became too much. Once in awhile, the constant input flipped a switch inside him. His thoughts, his senses and his emotions all melted down like a malfunctioning nuclear reactor. Outbursts were useful for taking out enemies in a fight, but they weren't very productive anywhere else. He hid from everyone when they came on and, if Rocket didn't intervene, chewed his wrists down to the delicate cambium tissue. The biting action prevented shouting while the pressure on his wrist and teeth shut everything else out. But he couldn't  _stop_  biting himself once he started. And if he bit into cambium tissue--  _ouch!_

Rocket knew how to restrain his hands and talk him through the storms. Groot's desire to not hurt his best friend was the only reason Rocket didn't end up impaled on a sharp vine. Quill, Drax and Gamora had never witnessed these uncontrollable fits. Groot hoped to keep it that way. They were embarrassing.

Why did everyone else stuff their heads up with so many lights, facial expressions and talking anyway? There were days where he watched people socialize and wondered how they came up with so much to say about nothing. A social gathering was comparable to being yanked onstage at a play he hadn't seen before. Everyone knew their role, the words to speak and how to express them...and he had nothing. Facial expressions were faces partially concealed behind unique masks-- the presence or lack of a smile and tone of voice were all he really picked up on until he got to know people. He copied the social rules he witnessed, taking wild guesses on proper body language to express what he couldn't in words. Sometimes, he got it wrong. Luckily, Rocket knew how to bridge the gap and explain things. Even  _he_  didn't fully understand everything Groot tried to communicate, but he understood enough. Groot would keep teaching him.

The moth's wings recaptured Groot's focus. Their eerie glow and dark veins held him completely engrossed. Suddenly, the insect zipped away. A flutter of white forever dancing against the night. Delight spilled through him, and he loosed a growling laugh. He sat up, plunged his roots into the moist ground and contentedly rocked back and forth while letting the river water flow over his outstretched hands. Shifting his fingertips sent water cascading across his palms in a variety of pleasant patterns. Spirals were always the best, because spirals also expressed infinity.

Groot's fingers dipped deeper into the moving water. Something smooth grazed his knuckles. He brought the weighted thing close to be licked, sniffed, touched, tapped and visually examined. Sensory memory was a fickle thing for his species. Recognition of everyday objects escaped him when they didn't strike the sense he used the first time he encountered them. If he saw an alien flower, he would remember it on sight next time-- if he smelled, tasted or touched the same flower without seeing it, he wouldn't recall it until he looked with his eyes. Therefore, using all of his senses helped him create a more complete memory imprint. After that, he rarely forgot.

Unfortunately, other people called him strange whenever he explored things differently than they did. But nobody else could see him right now. Nobody was analyzing his behavior, nobody was judging him and nobody was telling him he couldn't do that. The notion left Groot smiling. He squinted at the object in his hand, his mind working hard. One at a time, his five senses assembled the answer.

Its cold, clean taste told him stories of its long existence beneath layers of soil. The smoothness of its oval-shaped surface expressed years of being molded by the moving water. Tapping it proved its solidness, which meant many tiny particles pressed tight together. He could smell the eons in its microscopic cracks and see time glistening across its hard blackness.

Billions of years ago, this river stone existed as atoms in the core of a star. A few million years ago, it was part of the planet's crust. Time and plate tectonics transported it to the surface where the water shaped it precisely for this moment.

Groot held the river stone aloft, using it to block out the three moons. They, too, were formed by the same forces responsible for this simple little rock.

Like fractals.

This perfect rock was a piece of  _forever_.

He set the river stone in the improvised wreath created by his folded legs. His arms spread out to either side and he rubbed his hands along the surrounding grass. Palms first, then his knuckles. Long, sweeping arcs, like bird wings. Swish, swish, nothing could be more peaceful. Low humming rumbled deep inside his chest. He sang to the river's unending babble. Hearing and feeling himself in relation to the environment helped him find the boundaries of his own body again. There were no words, no thoughts, only sensations and emotions. His eyes gazed skyward, their lids drooping in the contentment of experiencing the world his way.

What a joy it was to simply  _be_.

How did anyone compact such hugeness into tiny little words? Words were merely the lid on an entire bottle of  _things!_

Groot submerged his hands in the river again. Soothing cold swirls danced upon his fingertips with unmatched smoothness. Water represented safety to him because he never forgot being denied a drink when he needed it.

_"What the fuck's wrong with you people? He wants the water. Give him the water!"_

_Groot faced the smell of fearful anger and saw a four-legged furry creature inside a heavily secured cage. He wore a gleaming silver collar around his throat. Wires protruded from his flesh like vines that weren't supposed to grow there. He was missing fur on his back and chest. Above his cage, a label with letters and numerals._

_The yellow-skinned alien waving water in Groot's face pressed a button. Groot heard zapping, a shout and silence._

_"Now," said the technician, who didn't flinch at the scent of pain in the room. He held the bottle of water within Groot's reach, "Water."_

_Groot grabbed for it._

_For the fourth time, the technician pulled what he desired away, "This is water. Look at me-- wa-ter."_

_"I am GROOT!" Groot growled in frustration. Dang it, he wanted a drink! Wasn't reaching for it expressive enough?_

_He bit the metal attached to his wrists while glaring at the technician through his peripheral vision. Hot misery sliced at his neck. Few things actually hurt that way. His collar had spikes that dug painfully into his sensitive cambium tissues. He hated it._

_"Ugh, stop chewing that!" snapped the technician, "What's wrong with you? Do you lack the intelligence to obey? I'm trying to help you become fit for society here!"_

_Groot's normally kind eyes went blank. The meaning of each word sank into the swirl of his mind._

_"I. Am._ **Gr-o-o-o-o-o-t!** _" he snarled._

_"Oh, good job! Now you've pissed him off," said the furry creature, "Groot, this twisted bastard wants you to communicate with him, but he's too damn stupid to see you already are."_

_"Shut up!" Now the technician zapped the furry one twice._

_"Up yours!" the furry one managed to choke out._

_After a moment of weighing the energy shackles on his wrists and the collar around his neck, Groot lunged at the water he so desperately needed. His tongue literally hurt with thirst. Would the technician get the message now?_

_Pain lanced his throat and shoulders. He grasped the container. Someone took it away the same time he touched it to his lips. Relief, so close...and gone._

_Groot flailed in rage, his parched body unable to grow the thorny vines he normally used for self defense. Several hands grabbed hold of his limbs. Somebody forced a mask over his face. Lethargy followed the foul-smelling gas he inhaled. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged back into the too-small cage beside the furry creature._

_Information reached his senses in increasingly broken fragments. The "sleepy gas" lasted as long as it took to lock his cage door. Groot slammed his forehead against the back wall of his cage, splitting his face open right down the middle. Gray agony drove him to clamp his jaw on his right wrist. Sticky sap clung to his teeth. The painful pressure felt good. Except he couldn't stop seeking it once he started. The impulse to gnaw kept firing. Groot continued digging his teeth in. He didn't want to...he was stuck in a loop of action and reaction._

_Pounding footsteps echoed outside the door. Groot heard a horrid screech just before hands seized him again. Every touch electrified his already agitated nervous system. He flailed, knocking the smallest technician away with his elbow. Someone threw him face-down on the dirty ground and bound his hands and feet together like an animal._

_"Not very smart, are you?" sniffed a beefy blue Guna, the largest technician of the group._

_Groot freed an arm to push the Guna away. He accidentally shoved his fingers up the technician's nose instead._

_"Yeah! Get 'em!" shouted the furry one._

_Bodies began piling on from all directions. Someone seized the arm he'd freed. Metal restraints clicked. Soon, he was completely immobilized._

_Everything dissolved to distorted scraps of sound and blurry body parts in his peripheral vision. The cage door slammed shut. As he lay there on the floor in pain, he heard the scientist and technician talk about him._

_"...still non-communicative."_

_"...neurological deficits."_

_"...failure to control unwanted behaviors."_

_"...more aggressive methods."_

_"...continue therapeutic intervention."_

_"...break his will to induce compliance."_

_Grayness rang in his head. Like fog on his brain, it cushioned him from the unpleasantness. He had no concept of how long he lay there, unable to move or relieve the burning tingle thrashing every nerve ending._

_The constant sound he'd been hearing morphed into the furry creature's voice saying his name. He blinked up at the little alien. A yellowish crack marred his wooden visage. Already, it was filling in again._

_"I-- am-- Groot."_

_"Yeah. I know. They're assholes."_

_"_ I _am... **Groot**..."_

_"So what if you can't talk the same way? I can smell what you're saying. You're a different kind of smart, that's all. They're the dumbasses who can't see it. You're an idiot if you think it's your fault."_

_That certainly grabbed Groot's attention. He looked up, eyes and brain connecting the fractured images until he finally saw all of the creature speaking to him. Dark fur, stripes forming rings around a bushy tail and small, piercing eyes._

_"Yeah," the furry being responded as if Groot spoke aloud, "Everybody here expects everybody else to think alike. Pfft, it's fucked up, isn't it? You know, a guy who heals that fast--" the creature pointed to Groot's face, which showed nearly no sign of being damaged, "--could be a great bodyguard. Be careful, you might wake up with something weird like adamantium under your bark."_

_A horrified gasp escaped Groot's throat._

_Laughing, the creature said, "Whoa, I'm just kidding! You should see your face right now. Wow. Heh, heh!"_

_Groot watched the furry one twist around in his cage. Thirst continued vying for his immediate awareness. He had trouble following the other being's movements. A moment later, the furry creature held out the bright yellow bottle previously affixed to the bars. Blinking, Groot averted his gaze, uncertainty wafting off him._

_"I'm not gonna pull the water away from you, Groot. You need a drink more than I do. Look at yourself. Your leaves aren't supposed to be brown, are they?"_

_Groot shook his head._

_"Great. Now turn around. I think I can get those restraints off."_

_Somehow, the small, furry creature managed to loosen the restraints enough for removal. Groot quickly snatched the tiny water container and stared at it in his hand. Yellow, not blue like the one the technician offered him. Uneasy, he shook it to hear the slosh. He unscrewed the metal nozzle and sniffed. Then he looked inside and poked with his finger. Definitely water. Now he could drink. He downed the bottle's contents in two desperate gulps. Not enough to quench his thirst, but it made it less distracting. The nozzle itself was perfect for nibbling. At least, until the scientist and technician took it away the next morning._

_Therapy, as the furry one called it, resumed in earnest. Every worker claimed they were teaching Groot how to act 'acceptable' within society. Nobody let him explore things with all five senses, which meant he didn't understand much of his environment or what he had to do in it. He was punished if he rocked, flapped his hands or nibbled on his increasingly sparser leaves. He was slapped in the face if he didn't make eye-contact when spoken to. The Guna applied restraints whenever he had an outburst. Once, he spent two whole days gagged and affixed to his cage bars because he wouldn't stop groaning. He was always thirsty because the technician took his water away for hours on end._

_Then the scientist found a bargaining chip that forced Groot to comply._

_Anytime Groot misbehaved-- no matter how minor-- the scientist zapped the furry one. The screams were horrible. Groot soon associated his own mistakes with his friend getting hurt. Attacking the people holding the collar controls never worked. Yelling when he wanted water never got him a drink. No, everything he tried to do meant the furry one suffered awful pain._

_Groot began to comply with the demands being made of him...and he eventually learned to stand very still with his hands at his sides. No wiggling his fingers or baring his teeth at unpleasant stimuli. No groaning or rocking. No flapping, no crooning and no avoiding eye-contact._

_What if he really was damaged after all? He stopped self-soothing when alone because it filled him with shame. Maybe this therapy really was helping him. He tried his hardest to obey the scientists and technicians. Maybe they knew best. He began to look normal._

_Underneath it all, he still felt the tingling rocking used to relieve. He still didn't understand social rules. He still processed the world the same as he did before receiving behavioral therapy._

_But he LOOKED normal._

_"Heh, how about that? The big one is actually shaping up," said the scientist to the technician, "How's his speech?"_

_The technician shot Groot a disdainful stare and shook his bald, yellow head, "Nothing. He still repeats the one phrase."_

_Typical speaking was a physical impossibility despite everyone's best efforts. It took months of suffering for the technician to figure that out._

_Whenever he wasn't fumbling through 'therapy', Groot watched the scientist take his furry friend away for who-knew-what. The furry one always returned groggy or unconscious._

_And during the times he wasn't being dragged out of his cage, he taught Groot how to comprehend the laboratory's text. Groot could read, yet he never connected written words with their meaning. It was quite eye-opening to realize the labels above his furry friend's cage and on various objects around the laboratory actually meant something to the scientist and technicians._

_Reading required a lot of effort-- Groot had an extremely difficult time processing words while moving his eyes across a line of text. Single words and short lists? Fine. Anything more made his eyes lose focus. He absolutely loved being read to. The furry one got bored reading warning labels and experiment charts out loud. Groot enjoyed the mental exercise. Hearing another voice read text aloud while he followed along strengthened his textual comprehension._

_"Groot, listen. Pretend you don't understand the text. Let 'em think you're stupid."_

_Groot's mouth fell open. He frowned, "_ I am _Groot?"_

_"Because it'll help you outsmart 'em when we bust outta here. Play dumb, okay? Don't let anyone know you understand what you read."_

_And Groot continued to 'fail' reading comprehension tests. He let the technician think he'd reached his learning plateau while noting every label on all the doors in the hall. Playing dumb meant going thirsty again, but the furry one assured him the misery wouldn't be in vain._

_Then Groot decided he had enough of watching the scientist abuse his friend. The furry one couldn't fight back! He watched which keys the technician pressed on the furry one's cage door and mimicked the finger motions in the air. This unwanted behavior earned him a long collar zap._

_The furry one was asleep and smelled of chemicals when placed in his cage again, but he awoke later able to stand up on his two hind feet._

_"Hey, idiot, what're you doing?"_

_Groot grunted, his hand still in motion._

_"I...am_ Groot _," he mumbled._

_"Huh? No, you didn't make 'em do this to me I dunno what the hell they did. Nothin' hurts. Guess that's the bright side, right? Hey, listen, those jackasses think I'm too drugged up to pay attention during transport, but I think I know how to get out of here. You with me?"_

_Groot grinned at him, "I am Groot!"_

_The furry creature slapped his forehead with his palm. "No, I mean, d'you wanna help?"_

_Nodding, Groot grasped the bars on the furry one's cage._

_"Great. Yeah. Okay, listen up. We need to do a test run to see if they change the locking codes. Here's my idea..."_

_Twelve hours later, Groot opened the furry one's cage for the first time. The furry one jumped across the room like a rocket and dragged the water jug to Groot's cage._

_"Here."_

_"I am Groot!"_

_The furry creature laughed, "A rocket ship?"_

_Groot drank generously until his thirst was quenched. He watched the furry one push the jug back to its original position before climbing back into his cage._

_"_ I am _...Groot."_

_"Nah, rocket ship's too long, but I like Rocket. Sure, call me Rocket. Better than the stupid label on my cage."_

_From then on, Groot always associated his friend with rocket ships._

_Two weeks later, Groot let Rocket out of his cage at midnight. Rocket helped Groot break free and used his pain collar to short out the laboratory security system. For fun, he set off the fire containment sprinklers, too. Absolute chaos ensued._

_Groot thrashed the people responsible for his misery for so long. The Guna got tied to his chair with the strongest available restraints. When Groot reached the technician who denied him water, he broke his pain collar off, bent it around the technician's neck and snatched the water glass out of his hand. After waving it in the technician's face a few times, he downed the contents with great satisfaction. The shocked technician could only sit there, choking._

_"Groot, c'mon!" Rocket yelled._

_Groot pushed the empty water glass back in the technician's hand and bolted into the hall. He kept Rocket safe from harm during their daring run through the noisy prison population. They fought their way to the helm of a just-docked supply ship. Being able to read meant Groot knew to shove the hapless pilot through the inner airlock so he wouldn't be sucked into the vacuum. The pilot was innocent, after all, and Groot never wanted to inflict cruelty for no reason._

_"Groot, let's go!"_

_"I am Groot!" Groot joined Rocket in the ship as Rocket triggered the docking bay doors to open._

_The prison station's weapons systems took aim once the metal walls gave way to stars. Rocket maneuvered the supply ship through a hail of laser fire. It was mayhem. It was loud. It was terrifying. Groot curled up on the floor, eyes closed and hands pressed over his ears._

_"Hang in there, Groot!" Rocket called._

_They took a hit. Rather than crash, the ship careened further away into an asteroid belt. Sparks flew, alarms blared and smoke filled the flight deck. Then everything quieted down. Outside the windows, nothing but stars and dust._

_"See that, Groot? We're free! Hah, hah! We're friggin' free! We're...wait, I'm naked here," Rocket burst out laughing, "I just ran through a prison full of people with all my junk hanging out! Is that batshit crazy or what?"_

_"I...am Groot..."_

_"Yeah, I need to find some-- huh? Nah, there's nothing to be afraid of."_

_Groot covered his mouth with both hands and shook his head._

_"Nobody's gonna take your water away for this, Groot," said Rocket. He started guffawing again, "We're free! So, you're thirsty? C'mon, we're on a supply ship. Let's go find the water. Maybe we'll find me some clothes, too."_

_Rocket's mirth ceased when they reached the storage compartment. He rummaged through crates of prison issue clothing until he found a pair of black pants small enough to fit. Groot helpfully poked a hole in the back for his tail. They kept walking. Halfway between two pallets of food, Rocket collapsed. He just dropped onto his knees, sobbing hysterically._

_Unsure of what to do, Groot helplessly scooped his friend against his chest and stroked the top of his furry head._

_"I'm fine!" Rocket wailed, "I’m fine, I'm fine, I'm f_ ine! _"_

_No, he wasn't._

_Groot sat down and rocked back and forth for the first time in ages. Doing it was soothing for him. Maybe it would soothe Rocket, too._

_"Don't!" Rocket snarled, breaking free. He bared his teeth and jabbed a finger at Groot's face, "Don't fucking baby me! I can take care of myself!"_

_Taken aback, Groot tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders, "_ I am  _Groot. I am_ Groot? _"_

_"Plenty. They did plenty. I couldn't always talk like this. They made me into this. I'm a freak. A freak!" Rocket's quivering voice rose in pitch, "You've got a planet of trees like you. There's nobody like me. I'm alone!"_

_Sadness crossed Groot's face. Every fiber of his being wanted to tell Rocket he wasn't alone. His lips pursed inward and he moved his tongue around inside his mouth, trying to make the words emerge. Despite everything, the statement came out as the same three syllables he always said, "I...am... **Groot**..."_

_Rocket flung his arms up in the air and told Groot everything. The outburst reminded Groot of his own behavioral meltdowns, albeit without the head bashing and wrist biting. Rocket must have kept all that rage balled up inside the entire time._

_Groot listened to every word, even when he didn't understand them all. And when Rocket's blustering fell silent, he gently brushed a teardrop off his furry cheek. Kindness shone in his deep, dark eyes. He smiled, trying to model the emotion he hoped to give his hurting friend._

_Instead, Rocket released another string of awful profanity. Groot leaned back, startled, and quickly sprouted clusters of lavender flowers all over his wrists. Their abundant nectar gave off a strong, yet calming fragrance. Growing them required a lot of strength due to dehydration, but Rocket's comfort mattered more right now._

_He watched Rocket slowly settle down. The lavender aroma was working._

_"What're you gonna do with those?" Rocket gestured to the flowers while wiping his eyes._

_Groot grinned and ate them. They tasted exactly like their scent._

_"Whoa, hey! Don't bite yoursel-- oh," he stopped when Groot showed him his undamaged wrists, "Heh! Knock it off. I'm fine. By the way, the water's right behind you."_

_And Groot never went thirsty again_.

A smile curved Groot's mouth. Rocket was the first alien to speak to him like an intellectual equal. Rocket, the furry creature like the caretakers on his home planet. Rocket, the being who smelled like sadness, rage and fear.

They never looked back once they tasted life outside confining walls. Groot discovered hanging around Rocket taught him more about social interaction than any technician or scientist ever could. And he really liked how Rocket treated him the same as he did everyone else. He didn't act all condescending during a wrist-biting meltdown. No, Rocket got him through it and they went on with their lives.

Groot still feared letting anyone other than Rocket see the truth. 'Normal' for his species didn't fit 'normal' for others. Abnormal people got locked up, right? What if anyone who wasn't Rocket sent him back to the prison laboratory? What if anyone who wasn't Rocket dismissed him as lacking competence?

No, only Rocket knew the real Groot. He preferred it that way.

Cool wind rippled the grass. Groot splashed water on his face. Wetness, the first sensation he recalled after saving Rocket and the others from a fiery white  _forever_. Groot slapped more water onto himself, remembering each warm droplet. Why had Rocket cried? Didn't he know?

Curiosity sent Groot reaching into the river again. Yes, there were more! He gathered several river stones into a pile, retracted the roots holding him to the ground and laid down on his side. The smooth rocks provided a perfect place to rest his head. Clean scents surrounded him. Now he was free to process what his roots told him about the planet.

Nutrient-rich topsoil concealed what had once been a gritty desert. Someone must have terra-formed this landscape-- like Groot suspected, the inhabitants seemed intent on either restoring a dying ecosystem or creating a hospitable one. He didn't know and couldn't speculate on what might have instigated such a desperate act. Perhaps a long-forgotten war, or the population was a transplant hailing from a vastly different climate.

Groot rose onto his elbows and drank generously out of the river. Yellow flowers sprouted on his shoulders. Pure joy filled his chest again. He crooned softly and moved his hands in circles underwater, loving how it surged between his fingers. It got even better when he found soft riverbed mud. Oh, he could stroke his hands over  _that_  forever!

On impulse, he scooped a handful of mud into his mouth and almost immediately spat it out again. Very nutritious for roots, but its mineral content tasted bitterly  _foul_. The flowers he sprouted, on the other hand, were quite sweet. He munched away happily before taking another greedy drink. Bad tasting mud was a good thing. The worse it tasted on his tongue, the more nutrients it had for roots.

Satisfied, content and calm, Groot rolled over onto his back to gaze at the endless sky. Fixing the nebula in his peripheral vision let him barely pick out hues of blue and deep purple.

Bioluminescent moths flitted past his face. Little white flickers of life so fleeting against a sky that took billions of years to form. Groot wasn't sure whether a Creator existed or not. If there was one, it probably enjoyed its own cosmic irony way too much.

Then Groot sat up and rooted himself to the ground again. The largest bole on his lower back made a great leaning post. Smaller roots spread out to keep him in a seated position. He closely resembled a marionette cast aside by its owner. Dozing in strange positions-- he considered himself a master.

Sometimes, whenever it was quiet like this, he wished he could explain the joy of  _being_  to his unlikely companions. Then they would see how small words really were.

With that thought, he fell asleep surrounded by tall grass. He dreamed richly about lush rainforests.

.o

A burbling that wasn't the river brought Groot back to consciousness. Tilting his head back towards the sound revealed its source. Rocket had his back to Groot while relieving himself in the grass. Realizing his impoliteness, Groot clapped a hand over his eyes.

"It's alive," Rocket yawned, "I'm surprised, I'm not usually the first hungover loser to wake up."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, yeah, good morning to you too."

Groot retracted the roots he sprouted overnight. He tapped his fingertips on his own knees and slapped each shoulder in rapid succession. Then he rolled his head side to side before stretching with a wide yawn. Awakenings weren't finished until he completed this first task.  _Not_  being able to perform his wakeup ritual meant he didn't know how to move on with his day because his mind stayed stuck on the one little thing he hadn't accomplished. Fortunately, such occurrences were rare.

"Augh! Damn! Get off my nose, you little shits!" Rocket sneezed, swatting at the copious gnats swirling around in the air. They looked like little gray specks against the brightening blue sky.

And they really liked Rocket's nose. Groot pointed and laughed.

"Yeah, laugh it up," said the hungover raccoon, "I hope you get invaded by termites."

That made Groot laugh harder. Behind him, steam rose off the  _Milano_.

The eastern horizon glowed with fresh dawn. Dew sparkled on Groot's bark and the surrounding grass. He stopped guffawing and observed how pretty the landscape looked. Upwelling happiness created a lump in his throat that propagated throughout his body. The energy needed somewhere to go, so he allowed himself to rock where he sat.

"I...  _am_  Gr-o-o-o-ot?" he released a puff of curiosity, " _I_  am  _Groot?_ "

"Huh?" Rocket finished his business and rearranged his clothing before turning around, "Pfft, nah. Broke even. Too much surveillance for anything else."

Stretching, Groot inquired, " **I**   _am_   _Groot?_ "

"No, I didn't start any fights, you twit. Whaddya take me for?"

But Groot knew Rocket too well. He smirked, never ceasing his motion, "...I  _am_  Groot!"

"Okay, okay, fine, I might have counted some cards. Still broke even. Everybody played nice," Rocket rolled his eyes and rubbed his head. His present scent and the lingering scents on his fur pointed to a lot of drinking.

This pattern of behavior was something Groot knew all too well since becoming Rocket's friend. Rocket drank to forget his problems, but at the cost of awful memories being triggered by seemingly benign stimuli. He got violent whenever the flashbacks came on too strong. Usually, Groot was there to pull him out of it.

Groot cupped his hand over the curve of Rocket's upper back because it seemed like the right gesture at the moment. " _I am_  Groot."

"Don't apologize!" Rocket shoved the hand right off again, "You didn't do it to me,  _they_  did!"

"I am... _Groot_."

Because Groot  _remembered_  too.

Rocket's indignant sniff sounded more like a sniffle. "Tch! That's why I drink. It helps me forget."

Frowning, Groot kept rocking where he sat. His rhythm slowed, expressing his concern.

"I.  _Am. **Groot.**_ "

"I can't turn my feelings over like you. You're wired different than me. I wish I was...pfft. I forgot what I was trying to say...heh." The sadness in Rocket's expression transfigured into amusement. He didn't realize he did exactly what he thought he couldn't do. "Groot, you're a special kind of idiot."

His tone and scent revealed the true intent behind his words. He wasn't being mean. Quite the opposite, actually; he'd delivered the statement with genuine, albeit backhanded affection.

Rocket grinned, and Groot beamed back as if he won a jackpot. Raw, unfiltered joy swelled in his chest. Seeing his best friend smile after a bad night meant everything.

"Well, get it out of your damn system!" Rocket beckoned to their surroundings, "Can't have you galloping all over the ship. Besides, I'm too hungover to laugh at  _their_  stupid, hungover asses."

A final nod sealed it-- Groot leap-frogged over Rocket and careened around him like a wild boomerang. He flailed his hands in the air for the simple joy of more movement. Flapping screamed his exuberance to the world. And through the corner of his eye, nestled within the glory of simply  _being_ , he saw Rocket's smile grow.

"Geez, Groot," Rocket chuckled, shaking his head, "Where do you keep the happy pills? I want one."

Groot stopped behind Rocket. He bent over, peering upside-down at the diminutive raccoon with the biggest grin plastered across his rugged features.

" _I **am**_  Groot!"

Then he took off again, laughing. He paused long enough to scoop up last night's river stones. Now they felt dry and hot from the white sun's warmth. He slingshot himself back to Rocket. The joyful energy that possessed him finally damped itself enough to contain inside his body. Its presence remained as a brightness in his otherwise dark eyes.

"Are you done?" Rocket's eyes picked up the same gleam. It acted like a bandage over wounds that never stopped bleeding.

Groot nodded, content at giving some of his happiness away. Last night flashed to the forefront of his thoughts. He wanted to share that feeling of _forever_  with Rocket.  _Forever_  was a concept he didn't wholly grasp-- he could only picture planets that had been around as long as the stars they orbited, and didn't stars shine for billions of years? Billions of years might as well be an eternity.

But  _forever_  perfectly described their friendship in all its unusualness.

Groot plopped a river stone into Rocket's hands. Waves of happy scents wafted gently off his palms. He waited for the reaction.

Rocket squinted at it and looked up at Groot, his small, sharp teeth bared, "Yeah, nice rock. There's probably a million of 'em in the river. So what?"

Sometimes Rocket didn't understand. This was one of those times.

Groot tried, same way he always had, to articulate the right words. His breath, vocal tract, tongue and lips responded only slightly to the specific need. Transposing the hugeness of wordless  _infinity_ \-- all the fractals, bioluminescent moth wings, glowing flowers, whooshing wind, water upon his fingers, soft riverbed mud, black river stones, gray moons, twinkling stars and the entirety of the universe-- into the smallness of spoken language seemed like an impossibility.

Strain showed on Groot's face. He found it in the recesses of his memory. Two small words capable of transforming a singular statement into infinitely more.

Looking squarely into Rocket's eyes, he spoke emphatically, " _We. Are._  Groot."

He said it once before, in the moment before white, fiery  _forever_. The emotion that came with it, the fullness of friendship and caring, shone clearly on his face.

It was enough.

Rocket's expression softened. He clapped a hand on Groot's leafy shoulder.

"Yeah," his understanding meant everything, "we are."

They thought in vastly different ways, yet in that moment they held the exact same idea at exactly the same time.

Finally, Rocket broke eye-contact by looking down at the rock. He twitched his ears, chuckling.

"Tch, how can you still be a nice guy after everything people put you through? Do you even know  _how_  to be cynical?"

Shrugging, Groot absently picked a dead gnat off Rocket's cold, wet nose.

"Figures," Rocket growled and swatted at the numerous insects, "Oh, that's it. C'mon, Groot, let's get inside before these fuckin' flies eat us alive."

Beaming, Groot practically pranced towards the  _Milano_. He left a river stone on everyone's flight deck seat before heading for the  _very_  makeshift bunk he shared with Rocket. And there, he discovered a small disk-shaped object sitting atop the blanket. The purple pattern painted around its outer edges resembled flower petals. Inside the large center, which was white, it had a myriad of intersecting triangles that jumped across his attention.

Groot felt the awareness of infinity return. He brought the item close to his face, sniffing and tasting. It smelled like beer and tasted vaguely salty. The front surface was smooth while the plain back felt rubbery, and it clacked when he tapped it against his forehead.

One would have thought he discovered the universe on a silver platter. He grinned, rotating the gift with his fingers and watching the triangles vie for perceptual dominance.

"Thought you'd like that coaster," said Rocket, "Souvenir."

"I  _am Groot!_ "

Rocket rubbed the sides of his head. No doubt feeling his hangover even more now. He grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, don't get all sappy on me again."

"I  ** _am_**  Gr-o-o-o-t," Groot huffed playfully. Curiosity got the better of him. He poked Rocket's tail with the coaster, "I am Groot...?"

"Watch the tail! And...don't remember. Quill had a word for it. I was too wasted to pay attention. It's a, um, it's a, uh-- oh, damn it, what'd he call it? Mandolin, or something."

From the flight deck, Drax called out, "Who placed a rock here?"

"Ugh, no yelling," Quill groaned, "brain hurts!"

"Quill, I want an explanation. Is this a symbol for something?"

"No clue."

"I have a stone, too," answered Gamora.

"Must've been Groot. Speaking of..." Quill poked his head in, "Yep, he found it! Hey, Groot, feeling better?"

Nodding, Groot regarded him with a glance. Quill disappeared before he had a chance to perceive his presence. Had he smiled? It sounded like it.

" _I am **Groot!**_ " Groot bellowed after Quill.

"What?"

"He said 'thanks!'" Rocket helpfully translated.

"You're welcome!" Quill called back. "Hey, Rocket! You're as hungover as I am, right?"

"So?"

Music filtered through the ship. Groot sat up so quick he bumped his head on a shelf. He loved this song-- it played the first time he started moving again as a sapling.

Rocket rustled his blanket, snarling, "Oh,  _hell_  no. Groot, gimme your pillow before I shoot that sorry bastard."

Not like Groot used his pillow, anyway. He preferred to sleep sitting up against the wall, so he gladly offered it. Anything for his best friend.

As soon as Rocket had the extra pillow, he stuffed it over his head to shut out the music.

Groot tumbled from his curled-up position and swayed to the rhythm. Before long, his shoulders and hips followed the beat, too. Moving felt _good_.

Footsteps hopped down the stairs leading to the flight deck. Groot froze in position, both arms above his head and face a mask of perfect innocence. That didn't smell like Drax, but, to be safe...

"Hey, Rocket? Enjoying the music?" Quill's voice quivered with barely contained laughter, "Groot, you're...looking tree-ish. Don't stop dancing on my account."

" _I_   **am**   _Groot_ ," Groot resumed his fluid movements.

The next song began playing. Quill folded his arms, his freshly-shaven chin and upper lip once again familiar. The river stone Groot left on his seat now resided in his jacket pocket.

"Groot, Groot, Groot, that's great and all, but there's an important set of moves you really need to know."

With that, Quill assumed an odd posture. Groot and looked up. Nothing there, so why did he point at the ceiling that way?

"I am Groot?" Groot asked.

"Ugh, you won't teach him like that," Rocket muffled through his pillows.

"Ohh, right. Gotcha. Sorry, Groot. Okay. Groot? Hey, down here," Quill whistled, "Give me your hands. I'm gonna show you a great dance."

Groot stopped staring at the ceiling Quill wasn't pointing to anymore. His eyes glimmered curiously. He trustfully offered the Terran his large hands. Quill grasped his wrists and started leading them through a rolling motion like twiddling thumbs.

"Now while you're doing that, step left...step right. Like this. Keep your wrists going-- hey, you're getting it."

" ** _I_**   **am**   _Groot._ "

"Yes, you are. Okay, I'm not tall enough to point your arms up, so stick your finger up like this and..." Quill pushed upward and Groot got the message, "There you go! Yeah, you've  _got_  this! Rocket, check him out! He's John Travolta now!"

Groot barked with laughter, "I--  _am_ \-- Groot!"

Quill smirked mischievously while rubbing at his tired, drooping eyes. Then he called out, "Hey, Gamora! Rewind the tape to the start of the Bee Gees again!"

Gamora didn't respond verbally. Something went click. The music stopped, made twittering noises and restarted. Now that Groot knew exactly what was expected of him, he mimicked the motions Quill taught him perfectly.

And Quill's voice suddenly went shrill as he mimicked the vocals coming through the speakers, " _'Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin'! We're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah! Ha, ha, ha! Stayin' alive!'_ "

The movements and music locked together in Groot's memory. Soon, they were almost involuntary-- making his body obey the tones teasing his ears required little thought.

Rocket's tail swished. "Quill, I hate you." Another swish. "I'm not gonna make him stop if he gets stuck on that song."

Quill shrugged his shoulders and scratched the back of his clearly aching head. "Groot dances better than I do. I mean, come on, even that crazy running around he did outside looked better than any moves I can pull off."

Those simple words pierced Groot's awareness, stopping him short. Quill  _saw_  him being  _different_. Groot's smile dropped as if slapped off his features. A cold knot erupted somewhere behind his throat and shot quickly downward through his body. He stepped back from Quill.

"I-- am... ** _Groot_**..." Groot's hands rose to shield his face. Overwhelming tingles screamed over his nerve-endings. He longed to hide with no safe escape, and he did not want Quill witnessing his internal switch flipping. Both equally important impulses collided like thunder inside his chest. Shockwaves echoed off the impact, a force he could not hold back. His vision went gray. He clawed at the sides of his head, howling, "... **I-- _AM-- GROOT!_** "

Quill jumped at the sudden shout.

"Groot? What's wrong? What'd I do?"

Fear blasted off Groot like waves of pollen. He bolted for the bunk in a blind panic, trying desperately to contain a supernova inside tissue paper walls.

"Damn it, Quill!" Rocket jumped onto the floor, blanket and all.

The music stopped playing. Quill sounded frantic, "What'd I do? Rocket, what'd I do?"

Groot shoved his left wrist into his mouth and bit down. He couldn't shut off the impulse once he surrendered to it. His jaw ignored all attempts at stopping and his arm wouldn't move away from his teeth. This need, this powerful, dreadful  _need_ , pounded his consciousness. No matter the pain or how loud his wrist crunched, he kept gnashing.

"You scared him. He's...ah, shit! Hold on," Rocket's hands yanked Groot's arm away from his open mouth, "Groot, no."

Groot bellowed and went for his available right wrist.

"Quill!"

"What d'you want me to do?"

Rocket didn't yell, though his voice was insistent, "Get his other arm away from his face!"

"Groot, stop chewing your--"

" _Telling_  him won't work, you jackass! He  _can't_  stop himself, now grab his fucking arm before I break yours!"

Quill's fingers wrapped around Groot's left elbow and tugged. "Groot, it's okay. Shh, hey, it's okay, buddy. It's--"

Groot roared and thrashed. Quill knew something he wasn't supposed to. Quill was not Rocket. Every instinct in him screamed to escape without injuring anybody that wasn't himself. Branches began sprouting off his elbows. Once he let them start growing, they grew uncontrollably and covered the wall behind the bunk.

"Groot, it's okay, you're okay. Crap," Rocket's fur bristled, "Quill, take this arm. Keep 'em both behind his back. If he gets his wrists in his mouth now, we'll never get them back out."

"Rocket, his body grows ba--"

"Shut up, Quill! I know how to handle this!"

Groot squirmed for another valiant attempt to get at his own wrists. They got pulled away before his teeth closed and his face hit exposed blanket instead. Frustrated, he shouted something wordless. Now both hands were immobilized against his lower back. Not hard, not painfully, not like the laboratory...

Rocket rustled in his backpack and placed length of rubbery red tubing near Groot's face. Lunging, Groot grabbed it with his mouth. He ground his teeth against the spongy, rubbery surface. Satisfying his urge to gnaw helped quiet his over-excited senses.

"There, now he'll listen to us. Groot, hey, idiot, focus on what I'm sayin'," Rocket's voice spoke quietly in his ear, "Nobody's taking your water away for this. You're fine."

Groot moaned, his vision blurred by runny sap. Strings of it stuck to the blanket when he hid his face. He whined around the chew tube, voicing his displeasure. Rocket's clawed hand patted an inverted triangular pattern on the back of his neck. Its repetitiveness focused his otherwise out-of-control senses like signal lights around a docking port.

"Is he crying?" Quill whispered.

"Yeah. Don't let go of his arms, he ain't done freaking out yet."

"How will I know--"

"He'll retract the vines."

"...oh."

Footsteps again. Groot tried to squirm away, to press himself against the wall, but the hands holding his wrists stayed firm. With no other release, Groot clamped his teeth harder on tube and emitted a low-pitched whine for want of something to untie the knot in his stomach. Nothing could once it started, so he had to endure until it stopped on its own.

"No, you gotta put pressure on the right spot. Hold his wrists like  _this_ ," Rocket murmured instructions to Quill.

Groot felt the pressure on the undersides of his wrists increase. Rocket resumed patting triangles along his neck. Like magic, the outside sensations began to overpower the unpleasant tingle surging down his nerve endings. He stopped struggling and inhaled several deep breaths. Between each exhale, he chewed the rubbery tube like he wanted to kill it.

"Nice. Now he's comin' back-- now he'll listen. Good one, Groot. Now listen up-- I just taught Quill how to help you through this. You're fine. You ain't going back to that piece of shit lab."

Then, the slap of a small hand hitting a leather sleeve, "Tell him you won't take him away. Don't ask stupid questions, do it."

"I'm not taking you to any labs, Groot," Quill repeated, "You don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to."

If only Quill knew how much Groot wanted to believe him. A thousand emotions spiraled around him like a black hole's accretion disk. Every instinct kept screaming to run, fight and hide despite logic saying he was safe.

Quill murmured, "God, he's like this kid that lived up the street from me. He was probably sixteen, maybe seventeen. He used to chew the skin off his hands and slap himself in the face. Poor guy didn't look like he knew the difference between his mom and a stranger."

"Tch," Rocket's eye roll was almost audible, "people think that about Groot all the time. He ain't a dumbass, he just handles information different. Right, Groot?"

Groot grunted noncommittally. He'd done so well concealing the truth...then  _this_.

"Can I tell Quill about the lab?"

Groot twitched a nod.

Rocket bristled as he told Quill exactly what happened in that disgusting prison laboratory. Groot tried to tune out the vivid memories tumbling into his stomach like boulders. He remembered it all through emotions and fragmented sensory input. Not having a complete picture of his past experience made the recollections even scarier, because he knew he wouldn't recognize the lab until he was once again its prisoner.

But Quill's strong grip on his wrists and Rocket's neck-patting helped remind him he wasn't its prisoner right now.

"...and we've been equal partners ever since we got out of that hellhole. The end."

"Oh, shit...wow," Quill breathed in, "I screwed up by opening my big mouth. Groot? Sorry. Are you okay?"

Sighing, Groot spat out the chew tube and flexed his tired jaw. The tingling started to subside. Equilibrium returned slowly, numbness replacing the terror. All the vines he attached to the bunk wall shrank away. His shoulders relaxed. He closed his eyes and exhaled. The storm was over.

Quill let go of his wrists after an okay from Rocket.

"None of us are taking you back to any labs. Right, Drax? Right, Gamora?"

 _They_  were here, too? Groot stonily remained still. His only defense now. He was halfway on the bunk, his knees on the ground and his face smashed against the blankets. The humiliating indignity of this entire display stung beyond measure.  _Everybody_  saw it.  _Everybody_.

Groot twisted his head to peer through the corner of his left eye. A muscle-bound gray man with red markings and a green-skinned woman dressed in black stood near the bunk room entrance.

Drax's brow wrinkled. Gamora pursed her lips.

" _I...am..._ Groot," he hid his face again as their stares bore into his back.

"You got that right," Rocket said. Louder, he went on, "and I won't let 'em treat you like anything less than equal, got it?"

"Who treated him as less than equal?" Drax asked.

"Nobody here will," answered Gamora, "Different is not necessarily less."

A bittersweet scent wafted off Rocket. Maybe he needed to hear that message, too.

Drax noisily cracked his knuckles. "I saw him destroy an entire corridor of Ronan's guards with one arm. Anyone who treats him as less than equal will die."

" _After_  I kick their sorry asses," Quill added with conviction.

"Not if I get to them first," Gamora joined in, her voice as gentle as it got.

" **I**...am  ** _Groot._** "

Rocket snorted, "I know you can handle yourself in a fight, but these idiots have your back anyway. Ain't that what friends do?"

Noises of agreement swept the room. Except Drax.

"My back is  _mine_ ," he grumbled.

Groot finally sat up to look fully at the unlikely gathering. The inferior feeling still pounded inside his head. He didn't know these people like he knew Rocket. They were friends, allies, however they weren't Rocket. He glanced at the diminutive raccoon perched beside his knee. The same brows-up look the others wore etched itself in his furry visage. Usually, peoples' faces matched when they all shared one emotion.

Groot remembered Rocket giving him that look seconds before the white  _forever_.

"I'm wearing my sincere face, Groot, and you know I don't do that a lot," Rocket said, and his voice reflected his words, "Nothing's gonna happen to you. No labs, no scientists, none of that crap. Never again."

They had this talk every time Groot's inner switch flipped somewhere public. Groot blinked slowly. Communication was still an issue, and he couldn't ignore that fact. Uncertainty continued its swirl in his mind.

"I...am--  _Gr-o-o-o-t_."

Rocket shook his head, sighing, "They'll learn. Okay, okay, probably not the smells part, but they'll figure everything else out. I did, didn't I?"

This was true.

Hanging his head, his energy spent, Groot purposely avoided looking directly at anyone. The slightest movements that weren't his own sent aftershocks of unpleasantness prickling beneath his bark. He clutched his head, frowning.

Rocket regarded the gathering, "Let's give him some space. For fuck's sake, your gawking is cloggin' up his brain."

Footsteps moved away one by one. And then he was alone. Alone and safe. No scientists. No laboratory. No cages. No thirst.

Groot waved his fingers near his eyes. The bunk area flickered between natural color and reverse afterimages. Built-up energy traveled from the tight knot in his throat to the tips of his moving fingers. He got up and paced, the jerky world revealing itself in flashes. Once the tension reached a tolerable level, he reclaimed his new coaster with its triangles of forever-ness.

Everything was okay. Everything was  _okay_.

His friends saw the real him and they weren't repelled. Maybe hiding from them wasn't necessary after all. Could there really be more people who were like Rocket? People who saw beyond the surface?

"So...any idea what the rocks are about?" Quill's voice filtered down.

Rocket laughed, "He likes you losers, that's what."

"This is a metaphor for friendship, then?"

"Yup. I guess Drax isn't an idiot after all."

"You little--"

" _I_  think they're thoughtful gifts that offer insight about the giver," Gamora cut in.

Groot scraped the sap off his face while he listened to the speculation about the river stones. Quill, Gamora and Drax didn't grasp the silent message in his gift any more than he grasped their ability to instantly transform thoughts into words.

That wasn't so bad. He taught Rocket. He could teach them, too.

Conversations continued on the flight deck. Quill's voice was the loudest.

"I know I'm an asshole, but I'm not  _that_  big of an asshole...how do I make it easier for Groot around here?"

"Couple things. First off, he can hear a fly fart across the universe, so..." Rocket's voice quieted to an indistinct mumble.

Groot let Rocket explain his behavior and his reactions to different stimuli. There were a few blanks and 'ask him about that' remarks. Groot chewed a leaf off his shoulder while gazing at his new coaster. Hearing his best friend in the universe voice the things he couldn't lifted a tremendous weight off his mind. At the same time, new nervousness surfaced-- what if they thought it was silly or used his needs against him?

No, no, no...he wouldn't have saved the lives of these societal misfits if he didn't see the good in them.

At last, Rocket finished his explanation. Dead silence followed.

Then...

"You got it," Quill replied, "I'll do my best, 'kay?"

Drax's voice practically boomed off the walls, "I still want to kill anyone who calls him defective. Also, uh...I understand some of those difficulties."

"At least we agree on  _something_. What kind of friends would we be if we didn't help each other?" Gamora's question incited the same noises of agreement from earlier.

Groot's mind reclaimed its proper homeostasis, and he found the wherewithal to join the others on the flight deck. He expected everyone to gawk at or ignore him. Because, if he didn't get handcuffed for his rare public outbursts, he got  _those_  stares or was socially erased altogether.

Neither of those events occurred this time. His emergence happened the same as it had yesterday. Like the chaos from a few minutes ago was already a distant memory.

"Hey, Groot," Quill waved while flicking buttons on the control console, "we're about to take off. Buckle up."

Rocket, Drax and Gamora buckled themselves into their seats. Groot nodded and did the same. He looked past Quill at the gray-green grass swaying in the wind. It reminded him of how peaceful the previous night had been.

"Here we go," said Quill. A final click and the  _Milano's_  engines shrieked online.

Groot covered his ears with both hands. G-forces pressed down as the  _Milano_  left the grassy ground. That was the only part he liked. Downward pressure transformed into a perpetual falling sensation once the blue atmosphere gave way to the blackness of space. Then the artificial gravity kicked on and reality no longer felt like an elevator ride. The engine noise dialed back to tolerable levels.

Conversations began sprouting up around him like flowers. Sitting silently in the presence of friends brought him the same satisfaction they seemed to find when they spoke amongst themselves. Maybe their jaunt in the noisy city equaled his quiet night by the river, too.

Groot held the coaster aloft so it blocked out the moons visible over the limb of the retreating planet below. He brought it close to his right eye and tried to align all three moons to different superimposed triangular points. No real reason other than he found it fun.

"You like that mandala, Groot?" asked Quill.

An affirmative grunt escaped Groot's throat. Now he knew the pattern's name.  _Mandala_. He stared into the  _forever_  of its intersecting triangles and crooned contentedly.

"Groot," Drax's voice edged over the engine rumble, "why did you give me a rock?"

Blinking, Groot focused on the river stone Drax was holding up. A bright smile crossed his expression, "I am Groot!"

At Drax's raised eyebrow, Rocket said, "He says it's 'forever' and that's how long he wants to be friends."

The energy on the flight deck changed. Groot sensed everyone glancing at their river stones and smiling. Their warmth poured through his nervous system until it reached a reservoir of sensation inside his chest. Too much to contain...so he didn't. He threw his head back in laughter and waved his hands in the air. The building happiness exploded free like a shockwave.

Just when Groot thought no one else sensed it, he heard Drax's uproarious mirth echo across the flight deck. It propagated to Quill, who let out a most undignified snort. Gamora pressed a hand to her forehead, her entire body shaking with amusement. Rocket rubbed at the inner corners of his eyes, grinning.

"You idiots wanted the real Groot?" he cackled, "Here's the real Groot!"

Blue flowers sprouted on Groot's shoulders. Expressing such happiness to his friends for the first time-- and having them reciprocate it without judgment-- felt as liberating as escaping the prison laboratory with Rocket. They were  _speaking his language_  and didn't even know it.

Rather, they didn't know it  _yet_.

Groot wrapped his arms around himself and bent forward, fixated on the mandala coaster in his lap. His dark eyes gleamed brightly. The smile hadn't left his face.

What a joy it was to simply  _be_.

.o

.o

 _"Acceptance is the key to be,_  
_to be truly free._  
_Will you do the same for me?"_

\--Katy Perry, "Unconditionally"


End file.
